


If I Don't Have You With Me

by tylerwrites



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Believer!Shane, Like, M/M, REALLY slow, Skeptic!Ryan, TA!Ryan, TeachingAssistant!Ryan, anyways! they argue and it gets gay, college!shyan, i'm in HS so sorry if it's inaccurate lmao, not angsty they just like to debate, professor!shane, shyan, skeptic believer, slowburn, smut MAYBE, the roles are kinda reversed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-19 17:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14242341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tylerwrites/pseuds/tylerwrites
Summary: Title: Compass by The NeighbourhoodRyan would really just like to get through his first year as a TA without trouble, okay? But his mentor believes the aliens are out for us, and Ryan has never had the best of luck.Besides, Ryan always has had a thing for tall idiots.





	1. Legends

**Author's Note:**

> y'all no one beta read this so if there are errors you better tell me. disclaimers for cursing as always. idk how many chapters this'll be, hopefully 4?

_ Jesus, why is every room in this damned place so stuffy? _

 

The halls were endless, it seemed, winding down too-narrow corridors and twisting in the worst spots. Ryan was already a bit late, and he just wanted to  _ meet  _ the man he’d be learning under the next year. 

 

‘ _ TA’s are great, you’ll love it!’ my ass; if this man wasn’t top of the recommended, I wouldn’t even consider it. _

 

His classroom was at the very edge of North Campus, tucked away. A hermit, they say. The air cleared up the further he walked, but his breaths were a bit more laboured than he had began. Whether this was from the walking or the annoyance, he wasn’t sure. Some part of him was ready to punch this smug bastard in the face, and another would just like to learn under a renowned author. 

 

The oak door slid open, making him straighten his slumped shoulders as he faced the…

 

_ Holy shit he’s tall.  _

 

Like, he is  _ really _ tall. He opens the door further, leaning down to grin at him in this obnoxious, know it all way. “No formalities, call me Shane. Welcome to my abode,” He quipped, swinging a hand in a grand gesture at the empty lecture room. The shorter boy had to repress an eye roll, instead taking the giant hand into his. He wasn’t one for physical contact, but judging by the tight grip on his fingers, Shane was. 

 

“Pleasure to meet you, this is my first year as a Teaching Assistant.” Ryan was trying desperately to keep his voice level, palms sweating so badly he half expected them to melt. The silence fell over them like dropped bricks, causing Ryan’s entire being to be one nervous twitch.

 

“So,” Shane clapped, grinning madly as he walked towards the front of the classroom. “Take a seat!”

 

Ryan shot him a puzzled look, but obeyed nonetheless; sliding into the small front row desks. This wasn’t an interview, he’d done all that a month ago. “Let’s chat.”

 

Ryan audibly gulped. Obviously noticing the poor boys fear, Shane waved dismissively as he leaned forward on his hands. “You’re aware that all English Professors have no sanity left, correct? Like, somebody warned you?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Alright, then it’s fine when I show you this,” He mumbled, shuffling papers around wildly in the grand desk he sat at. “What do you think about aliens, Mr. Bergara?”

 

To say this caught him off guard would be an understatement, he damn near choked on his gum. “Aliens?” He managed to squeak out, searching for any sign this could be an absurd test. “I’m… fine with the concept, I suppose? I don’t quite understand-”

 

His words were cut off by a manila folder being slapped down, followed by a, dare he say, dark chuckle. “Ryan, do you know what I teach?”

 

_ What kind of a question _ … “English, sir.”

 

“Alright, so, when I’m not studying this beautiful language, I enjoy to study the unknown. Aliens, ghosts, demons. The like. Now, obviously you’re a skeptic, or as I like to call you, cowards,”

 

He said it with such a wide smile it almost didn’t register as an insult in Ryans mind. “So, I’ll take it easy while I explain all this. Try not to get too overwhelmed, yeah?”

 

The TA sputtered, entire body freezing up as he stared blankly at the smug man in front of him. “I’m not a coward! I-I need evidence before I go assuming things, sir! Please, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, I just… I thought I was here to offer some Literature help to the students and-and they’re not even here yet!” Shane shrugged, nudging the folder closer towards the flushing heap of an assistant. 

 

Hesitantly, Ryan wrapped his fingers around it, choosing to avoid the incredibly pointed gaze that followed him.  This all felt weighted, and he was so terrified to mess up; to say the wrong thing, but maybe he’d like to escape Shane and find a sane professor to study under. The folder was meticulous, everything sorted into respective theories. “The moon landing?” Ryan mumbled, exasperated. Shane was just staring, no explicit emotion in his measured brown eyes. There was so much work obviously put in to this, the paper smooth under his shaking fingers. 

 

“The Queen Mary? I went there once when I was on my gap year. Nice ship,” Ryan mumbled, ignoring the buzzing in the back of his mind that reminded him of the one time he saw an unexplained phenomenon.  _ Just the shift of the ship. Just gravity. No ghosts.  _ “Isn’t it?”

 

He hummed in agreement before standing up and patting Ryan on the shoulder. “We have a class at 10, stay here, yeah? I have to grab a new text, I’ll be back.” Ryan just nods, still practically shell-shocked. Shane has a masters in one of the most difficult languages on Earth, teaching at one of the most prestigious universities, and he thinks aliens are coming for us. The door clicked softly behind him, and Ryan shot down the urge to throw this folder out the 3 story window. Taking a small sip of coffee, he finally felt himself settle into whatever this was going to be. 

 

Always had been one for debates, after all.

 

The small watch on his wrist read a sharp 9:35am, sun making its appearance from behind the clouds. A few minutes later, Shane returned with 3 books in his arms, kicking the door closed as though this was his home, and not a UCLA lecture hall. “Ryan! Did you finish reading?”

 

He had; another 15 minutes of his life he’d never get back gone with the wind. “Yeah, I think you’re very well versed on these topics,” Ryan answered, turning himself back to face the whiteboard. There were various latin words scrawled across it, most of which he recognized. There was only one he didn’t. 

 

“ _ Daemonium,”  _ He mumbled, wracking his brain for what it might be. He recognized the word for goat, but that didn’t offer him much of a context. “Shane,” He phrased it like a question, nodding his head toward the board.

 

“Demon.”

 

_ Ah. _

 

“Demon goat,” He deadpanned, reading the two words over and over. Only five minutes until the new students would file in, and he could sink away to the side. That’s it, Ryan could handle the man for five more minutes. “Shane?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Why is demon goat written on your whiteboard in Latin?”

 

“You read the file.”

 

He had. There had been a printed wikipedia page labeled Goatman’s Bridge, but he’d chosen to pay it no mind. “What does Goatman have to do with English 3100, Dr. Madej?”

 

“Legends are a big part of the Language Arts, and besides, English derived from certain areas of Latin. What better way to talk about it?”

 

_ Literally any way… at all. _

 

The first two people walked in, a dark skinned woman with long braids and a bright smile, followed by a short Latino boy with dark curly hair. She swung around, slapping him in the shoulder “Curly,” She whispered, just loud enough for Ryan to hear a few feet away, “I told you the Prof. was gonna be hot!” 

 

Curly rolled his eyes, pulling a thick book out of his bag as he sat down in a far corner. Ryan, too, rolled his eyes.  _ Hot? Please _ . Shane hadn’t heard, still picking though the papers in front of him with a glazed over look. The girl slid in beside Curly, and they began to whisper back and forth out of earshot.

 

More students filed in, most cheerful with a bookish look about them. Some confidently strided to the front to sit on either side of Shane’s large desk, smiling at him with shiny admiration. Others found ways to avoid his gaze, choosing to side with the equally awkward TA near the back of the class. He greeted them with a lopsided grin, asking about other classes and such. Anything to keep away from being dragged back to the tall man’s side. 

 

Nothing worked, as 15 minutes later he was being singled out, Shane beckoning him back to the front, 97 pairs of eyes carefully watching. Their scrutinizing glances wilted him, and he honestly just wanted to avoid this situation altogether. 

 

“This is Mr. Bergara, my 2018 semester TA. He is here to  _ help _ , do not fear him; befriend him. Any words, Ry?” He grimaced at the nickname, but turned to face the sea of people. 

 

“I’m a Film major, just here to help out Professor Madej. If you need my English help, I’ll do my best. If you need  _ help  _ help, I’ll recommend a therapist.” This was followed by some weak chuckles. He blushed, clearing his throat as he squirmed out of the skylight’s rays and back into the darkness. Shane was smiling at him, cheesy and wide, before turning his back on the students. He clicked open a dry erase marker.

 

Ryan watched as his mentor wrote  **_English 3100_ ** in messy, bold lettering, followed by two even larger exclamation points. 

 

“English nerds, book nerds, and authors alike, welcome! My name is Professor Shane Madej, but you can call me anything you please. I have already emailed you a course outline, and project weighting.”

 

He went on to explain attendance, phones, and grading with a voice that said  _ “This is what I’ve been destined to do.”  _ He finished after 20 minutes or so, a bit short of breath as he slid onto the desk backwards, crossing his long legs in front of him. Ryan was leaning against the East wall, zoned out and thinking about what he had to get for dinner tonight. He was in the middle of salivating over the thought of Samosas when the sound of a video beginning to play snapped him out of it.

 

The title screen read,  **Goatman’s Bridge, The Hard Facts.** Ryan couldn’t believe Shane had actually gone through with this, pausing every few minutes to explain a theory or a noise. And the worst part of it all was the fact that these students, these bright young minds, were intrigued. They were grinning and chiming in, and Ryan had to take a couple deep breaths. It was obvious that the believer got his rocks off to Ryan’s annoyance, judging by the way he kept looking back to wink at him.  _ Ugh _ . 

 

After finished, a ginger boy in the front cleared his throat before halfway raising his hand. “That was fascinating, sir, but what does it have to do with English?” He said it so quietly Ryan had to strain just to make it out. 

 

“I am so glad you asked that, Bianchi! I’d been waiting on it,” He exclaimed, causing the boy to smirk and lean back in his seat. “Alright, did anyone notice the Latin on the board?” A few nods and murmurs among the crowd. 

 

Curly raised his hand, not waiting for a confirmation before continuing. “It says  _ daemonium capra _ , but that still doesn’t answer our question, sir,” Ryan nodded in agreement without meaning to, but Shane was busy clicking on his laptop to notice.

 

“This, Velasquez, is an introduction to your very first project of the term! How many of you here enjoy writing or reading fantasy?”

 

A wave of hands shot into the air, followed by excited whispers. It made Shane chuckle, opening a yellow document with three enthusiastic taps. “Project one,  _ Legendary Literature _ . I would like you all to create your very own Legend. All yours, no borrowing from other cultures, I will be checking. Sending a mass email out with the deets,” Ryan cringed, “Now! You may talk amongst yourselves for the remaining minutes.”

 

Ryan stalked over to where Shane sat, scrolling absentmindedly through his phone. He smiled when he saw Bergara approaching. “You understand my reasoning, now?” Ryan nodded, laughing lightly as he glanced at the laptop screen. “Good name choice. I love a cheeky play on words. It’s… a very ideal first project.”

 

He wasn’t great with compliments.

 

“Thanks, man. Are you busy after class? I’m going to work through a lesson plan, in case you might be inclined to join me.”

 

In all honesty, Ryan would like to go get some fresh coffee and maybe a muffin, but he found himself nodding anyway. “No ghost talk?” He took the final sip from his blue travel mug. 

 

“No ghost talk.”

 

30 minutes later, with fresh tea (Shane doesn’t drink coffee) and a buzzing air conditioner, the two sat together at Shane’s desk. There was looseleaf spread out wildly before them, covered with scrawling thoughts and doodles, courtesy of Ryan.

 

Shane took a deep breath before breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen. “You really don’t believe in anything? I mean, think about it! The exorcism of Emily Rose, the stuff caught on camera, the UFO sightings? There’s so much evidence-”

 

He was cut off with an exasperated sigh. Ryan he couldn’t seem to hold back, resting his glasses back in his hair. “I think the possibility of aliens is plausible, but they have never come here. Ghosts are not real, and demons are  _ definitely  _ not real. The evidence is just… edited photos and footage, unreliable firsthand encounters, the works. One day, if I see some proof of these things you believe in, I’ll believe too. Now, let’s get this laid out- you said no ghost talk, Shane.”

 

He just smiled. “You’re finally calling me Shane.”


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since when does Shane Madej know how to paint?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCK HI I FINALLY UPDATED I NEED TO STOP BEING LAZY WHATS SAUCIN!!!! disclaimer for talk of japanese cursed paintings because uhhh yewhaw i guess, also cursing as always. we gettin fluffy next chapter boys.

The next morning left Ryan unbelievably groggy, with a cottonmouth and some very questionable leftovers sitting in the fridge. It was warm, the autumn leaves scattering in the wind, orange and yellow streets the only thing seen for miles. Ryan’s cat, Maggie, sat purring on the ottoman across from his bed. 

 

He sat, fingers wrapped gingerly around a steaming mug, staring out at the ground below.  _ Please be a good day _ . Shane and him had gone through today’s plan yesterday, and it was set out ahead of time. He smiled, resting his forehead against the cool glass, letting out a sigh he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Tuesdays were good days, he was meeting up with friends later. Ryan just needed to level with Shane, not cause any fuss, and then leave. 

 

Easier said than done.

 

Winding down the corridor for the second time was far quicker than before, messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He didn’t bother knocking, nudging the door open with a boot clad foot. He had one headphone loosely dangling, the other murmuring The Neighbourhood into his ear as his eyes adjusted to the dark room. Shane sat at the desk, glasses perched precariously on his nose as he hummed to himself, thumbing through what looked to be a thick novel. He barely glanced up at the sound of shuffling feet, choosing to ask his question to the book he held rather than the person he was asking. “How was your night?”

 

Ryan’s night had been exceptionally boring, even his dinner had been less grand than he would have liked. Watching  _ Iron Chef _ until you pass out isn’t exactly a party.

 

“Pleasant,” Not necessarily a lie, “Yours?”

 

He finally slid a bookmark into place before snapping it shut, turning to face where Ryan stood leaning against a chair. “Boring, but a few students emailed me asking if their ideas were good, which they were, so that added a bit of…  _ pizzazz _ .”

 

Ryan wheezed out half a laugh before echoing “ _ Pizzazz, _ ” in a mockingly deep voice. The taller mans pout was almost too much to handle, his brown eyes watching Ryan slide over to grab an unmarked folder off the desk. “Plans?”

 

A nervous glaze shifted over Shane as he wiggles in his seat, shrugging in a feigned nonchalance. 

 

“Something like that.”

 

The first thing that caught his eye was the bright red paint that seemed to glisten, even in the dim light. When he walked out of Shane’s grip and into the space under the skylight, his heart skipped. “Red Robe. The cursed…”

 

“Japanese painting, yeah.”

 

Shane Madej had recreated a piece of his culture, and it was… beautiful. Vibrant, clean, and a bit horrifying. Ryan smirked, running his fingers over it. “Didn’t take you as a painter, Shane.”

 

“I live to surprise, what can I say. Help me set up the slides?”

 

Ryan placed the folder on the ground next to them, giving it a final look of admiration before settling into a chair. 

 

The two sat across from each other with a laptop perched on a desk, knees knocking when Shane got overexcited. “Shane…”

 

He gave Ryan a questioning look, cocking his eyebrow as he followed Ryan’s gaze to where his knees were pressed directly against the smaller boys. “Personal space?”

 

“Fuck, sorry; I didn’t even notice,” Shane apologized, immediately moving backwards in his seat.

 

Ryan didn’t miss the contact, no sir. He did  _ not _ think it was a bit endearing that Shane felt so comfortable touching him. It’s  _ fine.  _ He was the one who pointed it out. And if anyone asks,  _ no,  _ he is  _ not  _ blushing.

 

Shane just shivered a moment before pulling the laptop towards him again. He was obviously trying to repress a frown that eventually bubbled its way to the surface. “The painting was for a friend, by the way. I just brought it in to show an example of a non-literarical legend. I’m glad you enjoy it, Mr. Bergara.”

 

“You gotta stop calling me that, man.”

 

“Sorry. I’m glad you enjoy it,  _ Ryan.” _

 

After another while of the two silently clicking through slides, one of them occasionally humming, an alarm went off in the desk nearby. It’s vibrato filled the air so suddenly Ryan couldn’t help but jump, whipping around to face the noise. “10 minutes to class, it’s like a warning bell.”

 

“It’s a heart attack, is what it is.”

 

Shane rolled his eyes. He muttered something about cowardice before closing the laptop he’d been reading from, knees cracking as he stood. The air changed from calm back to what seemed to be incredibly tense, Ryan shuffling into the back to adjust the lighting. When he turned back around, he saw Shane wildly digging through squeaky drawers, face pulled in such a way it read as a warning.

 

“Professor? You alright?”

 

His head shot up, pointing directly at Ryan with an incredible amount of determination. “Pen!”

 

Ryan fumbled in his bag to retrieve a pen. Purple and glittering, but it’ll have to do. He threw it at Shane with- let’s day for the sake of Ryan’s pride-impeccable aim. Shane caught it, barely nodding a thanks before beginning to wildly scrawl on the paper before him. Ryan squinted, moving in a bit closer to try and read whatever it was Shane had his knickers knotted over. 

 

“You’re… the Dan Brown book?”

 

“It’s not correct.”

 

“Ex _ cuse  _ me?”

 

“The Da Vinci Code, the plot points. Some of them aren’t right. Heart attack, heart, emotion, pagan. That’s the connection, if you’re wondering. The… the protagonist,” He took a deep breath, turning once again to face his very confused TA.

 

“French law protects the police, he would’ve been shot and killed in the first 100 pages but Dan Brown ignored it to-to keep the plot going!”

 

“Shane, what the fuck does this have to do with anything? I’m happy for your  _ eureka  _ moment but-”

 

He was cut off with the sound of chatter entering the hall, footsteps ceasing when the two students see Professor Madej red faced with a purple pen gripped angrily in his hand. “Guess it’s about that time. Good morning, Evans. Bianchi.”

 

And Ryan supposed that was that, end of conversation.

 

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

 

An hour later, students were once again filing out with bright eyes and light bulbs practically hanging above their idea-filled minds. Ryan felt an odd surge of pride, watching students  _ he  _ helped go home to work on a project they were actually passionate about. This bubble was popped as soon as Shane felt the need to open his trap, as it usually went.

 

“Stay behind, I didn’t get to finish telling you the  _ thing.” _

 

He said ‘thing’ as if the thing in question was the fucking Philosopher’s Stone and  _ not  _ some idiotic theory than had no meaning to anything currently going on. Ryan stayed anyways.

 

“The point is, all these books we consider deep, all these theories and thoughts; half the time they’re molded into what we need them to be. We completely disregard logic out of this-this  _ fear.  _ We’re all so scared of being wrong that we don’t agree to things unless everybody else agrees first. Dan Brown wrote it that way solely because he needed to tell the story. He disregarded logic because he was scared of making his points seem mute.”

 

“This is fascinating, beyond impressive but… Shane. What the  _ fuck  _ does it have to  _ do  _ with  **_anything._ ** ”

 

With every emphasized word, Ryan took a step closer. They were know so near that Ryan could smell Shane’s aftershave, and see the mischevity in his eyes. 

 

“Nothing. I just noticed it.”

 

Ryan’s hand twitched at his side with the raw urge to punch him, but instead he took a deep breath. He wanted to scream  _ what the fuck do you mean nothing? I could be out with Steven right now. I have plans. I have plans, I’m hungry, and I want to push you out that window. I stayed behind for  _ this?  _ For  _ this?

 

“Alright. See you tomorrow, Shane. Don’t let the ghost bugs bite.”

 

“Ryan?”

 

He turned around just short of the door, Shane holding out the painting with a lopsided grin.

 

“The friend was you.”

 

Anger suddenly forgotten, Ryan’s scowl melted off his face into a look of fond confusion. He crossed the threshold, cautiously watching Shane.

 

_ You spend two days with a man and suddenly he’s painting for you. What does he want from me? Sex? A murder alibi? _

 

Ryan took it carefully, smiling gratefully despite himself. “You paint for all your friends, Shane?”

 

He just laughed in response, flicking out the lights, gently plunging the smiling boy into a familiar darkness. Ryan silently followed him down the corridors, painting now safely tucked into his laptop sleeve. 

 

As they approached the exit doors into the street, Shane turned back.

 

And with a glimmering wink, he said “I only paint for the cute ones.” as the door clicked shut. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chanting* FLUFF! FLUFF! FLUFF!

**Author's Note:**

> LLJNFJE OKAY this is a slow burn i'm sorry. It get's more shippy, bear with me.


End file.
